


Harry's Adventures In Scotland

by Zayrastriel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU according to the endnotes, Crack, F/M, I DO NOT SHIP THIS EVER WHYY DID I HAVE TO WRITE THIS, sort of underage depending on how you look at it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-24
Updated: 2012-07-24
Packaged: 2017-11-10 15:21:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zayrastriel/pseuds/Zayrastriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Minerva finds herself the victim of an miscast Anti-Ageing Spell, she merely plans to take advantage of her less-than-ideal circumstance to find out just what Potter and his friends are up to.  It goes differently to how she might have expected it to go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harry's Adventures In Scotland

**Author's Note:**

> So I said I'm taking open requests. Clearly people took this to heart.  
> (BTW still am - both pairings and prompts for any fandom I'm in, which is most.)

“Fuck,” Minerva mutters, and is immediately horrified with herself because really, this Anti-Ageing nonsense (she resolutely refuses to think _stuff_ , no one should say _stuff_ ) shouldn’t be affecting her mind at all, and it’s bad enough that it’s got to her body.

She can’t figure out what is worse about her situation; the fact that it’s happening, it really is, to _her_ of all people when she needs to be concentrating on the rather imminent return of He-Who-Must-Not- Be-Named rather than her suddenly slender, cellulite-free body and unwrinkled face (though that is delightful, distractingly so); or the fact that Professor Dumbledore looks supremely unconcerned – even, and it galls her to think so, a little amused beneath his calm expression.

“Indeed, Minerva,” Albus says calmly, leaning back in his armchair to peer at her from over his half-moon glasses, “this is rather a situation you’ve found yourself in.”

Something about those words, benign and seemingly-inoffensive as they are, make Minerva want to punch something.

Hard.

It’d almost slipped her mind that she had aggression issues as a teenager – _brilliant_. 

“It is,” she says between gritted teeth.  “It really is.”

The headmaster sighs.  “Well, our options are rather limited, I’m afraid.  No one has been able to reverse the potion’s effects, not even Severus,” she snorts (I am sixty years old, not a teenager) at the idea that Severus doesn’t merely find this problem of hers hilarious, “and so you will simply have to wait for it to wear off.”

It stings her to admit it but that’s probably true.  “Fine,” she says as stiffly as her melodious soprano’s voice can manage.  “If that is all, Albus, I need to prepare classes fo-“

“Oh,” he says with wide eyes, “You thought- no, no, it’s my fault, I’m terribly sorry.”  Albus exhales heavily, as though the weight of the world is on his shoulders.  Minerva for one is almost positive it can’t compare to having the weight of a fifteen year old’s body around one’s shoulders. 

(In a manner of speaking.)

She takes the bait anyway, certain as she is that she’s not going to like the answer.  “What do you mean?”

He sighs.

 _Again_.

“I can’t have my students taught by a fifteen year old girl, Minerva,” Albus tells her with a shake of his head.  “That would be irresponsible.”

“Even for you?” Minerva mutters with a sinking heart, thinking back to possessed turban-wearing weaklings, award-winning smilers, werewolves and crazy prison escapees.

(Lupin, Minerva acknowledges, was less a werewolf and more a cuddly teddy bear with a dark side of teeth and blood.  But _still_.)

“Yes, Minerva,” he says sharply with a hint of annoyance, “even, as you say, for _me_.”

“Well sh- _wonderful_ – what am I expected to do, then?”

“Take a holiday, perhaps?  Unless…”

She doesn’t like the sound of that but steels herself.

“Unless…?”

She’s right, as it turns out.

 

~

 

 _This is so, so stupid_ , she thinks to herself as she signs the ridiculous and quite possibly illegal signup sheet for Potter and minions’ latest suicide attempt, trying not to admire the admittedly awe- _spectacular_ Charms work that has gone into the whole thing.

 “Don’t you think it’s rather odd that there’s a _transfer student_?  And since when was there another wizarding school – that we haven’t even heard of – in Britain?” Granger says in a rather failed attempt of a hushed whisper to Weasley and Potter.  Minerva refuses to acknowledge that it is possibly evidence of the psychological impact of the potion that she finds Granger’s words annoying and obnoxious rather than insightful, and the fact that Granger is…

 _Never mind_.

As Minerva watches out of the corner of her eye, Potter shrugs.  “Give her a chance, ‘Mione.  She’s been sorted into Gryffindor, she can’t be _that_ bad,” he says patiently (obviously, if he has to deal with Granger with her bushy hair and regrettably straight teeth and Minerva really has _no idea why all the guys seem to think she’s that_ -)

She winces, resists the urge to clutch too obviously at her head.

“Here, Mi- Hermione, wasn’t it?” Minerva says loudly, smiling at Potter as she shoves the piece of paper back at Granger.

It’s a grateful smile, she insists to herself, and she absolutely isn’t resisting the urge to bat her eyelashes at him like she hasn’t done since that bastard Riddle back in sixth year.

“Alright, everyone, today we’re going to be covering…”

Minerva is far too preoccupied with trying to remind herself that she’s past menopause, not sixteen, to actually listen to whatever it is that Harr- _Potter_ is telling the students.

 

~

 

Even though it took Minerva all of about five minutes to determine the exact nature of Harry’s ( _Potter, he is still your student,_ Potter) suicide attempt for the year, she still finds herself going to those ridiculous meetings (and really, Dumbledore’s Army?  As though the man actually _needs_ an army) and mouthing spells that she’d mastered by third year. 

She finds herself forced to admit sometimes that perhaps Albus was a little remiss in actually providing the students with competent teachers.

(Just a little.)

(Maybe.)

(And there is absolutely nothing appealing about the way Harry ( _goddamnit_ ) frowns when he’s duelling.)

(And she’s definitely not sinking into the pits of adolescent mentality.)

 

~

 

Alright, perhaps she is.  But Harry’s got the most _gorgeous_ green eyes – even Hermione thinks so, when she’s not too busy mooning after that moron Weasley – and honestly, she’s _sixteen,_ she deserves to give herself a break.

(And she is really careful to ignore that frustrating little voice in the back of her head that keeps insisting that she’s more sixty than sixteen and should really _not_ have gotten drunk – something about _arteries_ , and their apparent importance – and made out with Ginny Weasley for five Sickles when classes finished for the Christmas holidays.)

 

~

 

 _Christmas is the best time of her life because that’s when it_ happens _._

“Hey Minnie, um.” 

Harry shuffles from foot to foot as, wand still raised after barely remembering to actually speak the spell when she knocks out Ginny, Minerva looks up at him from under her eyelashes. She’s very careful not to bat them (yet) as she answers, “yes?  Is something wrong with my technique?” _Eyelashes, flutter, now!_

Right on cue, Harry clears his throat, a faint flush rising to his cheeks; reminds her of Charlus Potter when he asked her to Hogsmeade in 6th year…

 _Ooh_. 

(For the record, she turned down Charlus because he was an arrogant insufferable twat.  Harry, on the other hand…)

“Actually, I um…you don’t suppose you could stay behind afterwards? I mean, just for a moment, I won’t keep you long, um-“

“Of course.”

She flutters her eyelashes again and smiles till he’s walked away, before turning her gaze to that bitch Cho Chang who’s glaring at her venomously and letting her smile morph into a look of triumph till that moment when the insufferable cow obviously realises that _Minerva has won, take that_.

“Mistletoe,” Luna Lovegood mumbles to Minerva as she heads past her to the door, and something ridiculous about Nargles but Minerva isn’t paying attention.

It turns out kissing a sixteen year old boy for the first time in his life is the same, regardless of the boy. 

The sex, however, is not.

And that is very good thing, because Minerva is young and flexible again (hopefully forever actually because being old is nothing but a traumatic memory for her), and she fully intends to put it to good use.

 

~

 

It’s like this, while they’re making sweet, sweet love in the Room of Requirement, that Minerva feels a cold shudder run through her body.

She doesn’t know it at the time, because both their eyes are closed so he can’t see her face change and she can’t see the noticeable drop in her optical capabilities, but that’s when the spell finally wears off.

**THE END.**

**(Insert Harry’s freaked out reaction and their consequent and simultaneous internments to secure mental facilities on opposite ends of the globe here.)**


End file.
